| |
| A MAN said unto his Angel: | |
| “My spirits are fallen low, | |
| And I cannot carry this battle: | |
| O brother! where might I go? | |
| |
| “The terrible Kings are on me | 5 |
| With spears that are deadly bright; | |
| Against me so from the cradle | |
| Do fate and my fathers fight.” | |
| |
| Then said to the man his Angel: | |
| “Thou wavering, witless soul, | 10 |
| Back to the ranks! What matter | |
| To win or to lose the whole, | |
| |
| “As judged by the little judges | |
| Who hearken not well, nor see? | |
| Not thus, by the outer issue, | 15 |
| The Wise shall interpret thee. | |
| |
| “Thy will is the sovereign measure | |
| And only events of things: | |
| The puniest heart, defying, | |
| Were stronger than all these Kings. | 20 |
| |
| “Though out of the past they gather, | |
| Mind’s Doubt, and Bodily Pain, | |
| And pallid Thirst of the Spirit | |
| That is kin to the other twain, | |
| |
| “And Grief, in a cloud of banners, | 25 |
| And ringletted Vain Desires, | |
| And Vice, with the spoils upon him | |
| Of thee and thy beaten sires,— | |
| |
| “While Kings of eternal evil | |
| Yet darken the hills about, | 30 |
| Thy part is with broken sabre | |
| To rise on the last redoubt; | |
| |
| “To fear not sensible failure, | |
| Nor covet the game at all, | |
| But fighting, fighting, fighting, | 35 |
| Die, driven against the wall.” | |
| |
